Hunting Damien
by CallMeBilesSourWolf
Summary: The Winchester's are the most feared hunters and Damien doesn't stand a chance.


Breathing coming in gasps from running Damien knew he was cornered, there was no use running anymore. He had been found and tracked like big game and he knew it. The damp warehouse providing a stall in his inevitable capture, no real shelter from his imminent death. He let his head hit hard against the brick walls, trying to calm his heart rate through the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

"We're not trapped in here with you. You're trapped in here with us." the gruff voice called out just a few dozen yards from where Damien was hiding. Damien screwed his eyes shut, losing at keeping the tears away.

He had grown up being taught to strategize his kills. Keep moving from town to town. Be unpredictable in timing. Space out locations, never overlapping. Leave no trace or disguise his kills as animal attacks or even freak accidents lest a pattern appears. It was hard enough he was a Werewolf, always different from everyone he knew save his mother and loosely adoptive pack. Always on the move and running, keeping their lives together just enough to pass as humans and not the freaks Damien knew they were.

His mother had slipped up and caught the attention of hunters. Her kills too frequent in their most recent town and that had been months ago. Hunters were relentless and scarily accurate in tracking his kind. Almost as if they were the ones with superhuman senses. Able to find all the tiny indications Weres had made the kill and it wasn't a coyote or real wolf. They had gotten her a few weeks back and their traps had weakened Damien. He was fading and unable to keep ahead of the hunters.

He slumped to the floor, the silver poison from the dart weeks ago still running rampant in his system, slowing his healing processes and dulling his senses. He could still hear the two heartbeats searching the warehouse, strong and steady, so unlike his at the moment. They moved silently, avoiding the dirt on the floor that would give away their position. At least Damien could still monitor their position by their hearts, all his other senses useless to him now. He couldn't smell the four guns they carrier with the silver bullets. Couldn't see their heat signatures as they weaved through the old shelves, searching every nook and cranny of this building. He could barely see his own hands in this darkness, baffled how they could maneuver without lights with their human vision.

He had gotten his breathing under control, but he hadn't calmed down. Knowing the two most famous hunters would find him, it was just a matter of time. He had been told horror stories about the Winchester's as a pup, just like humans were told scary stories of Werewolves. They were ruthless, laser focused and even other hunters feared them. Their combined cunning nature and innate bond with each other made them a force even God didn't like to mess with. Damien knew where he was headed once they found him, purgatory, and it chilled him to know that Dean had even been there and survived.

He knew that Sam had been host to the Devil himself and had won. Dean had fought off Leviathans in purgatory and came back. They each had been to hell and back. Dean becoming a master in touture during his time in the fiery pits. Sam's soul had endured centuries and he had snapped back from it. Damien had no chance against them and he knew he was in check mate.

Their footsteps were making headway, getting closer to Damien's little corner. Their heartbeats so steady one could mistake them for merely reading or close to slumber, yet they moved closer and closer, guns and blades at the ready. Damien tried to slow his ragged breaths, he would give himself away sooner if he couldn't control it. He could begin to smell them now, they must be right around the corner now.

They had caught his mother in Cherryfield just weeks ago. Her cries of pain overriding Damien's own self perseverance. He ran to her instead of away like she had instructed. She knew they both wouldn't get away and was sacrificing herself so her son could have a chance of living. Their pack had abandoned them a few months back, as they weren't blood to them and they felt she and Damien were a liability. Turns out they were, getting sloppy as the years etched on without a sign of hunters. Just so happened the Winchesters were finishing a ghoul hunt a town over from his mother's most recent kill and she didn't clean up her scene well enough.

When they had shot her they had used their last bullet, and Damien stupidly thought he could take them on by force because they were out of ammo. Sam always had a backup plan and shot him with a silver dart in the back. The fire of pain raced through him like a flood and he crumpled next to his mother for a moment. She gasps out her last words for him to run just as the first wave of silver poison subsided and Damien struggled to get up. Just as Dean came rushing up Damien had made it into the dark woods and out of sight. He stumbled and ran, the cries of his mother as Dean's blade came down on her ringing in his ears, fueling his legs to move despite the pain.

Now Damien could still feel the hardened lump of silver under his muscles in his back, having been shot where he couldn't extract it himself, and having no one to do it for him. The silver weakened him slowly over the weeks and he knew he was just like injured prey being chased down until it gave up. They were right behind him now, the thin wall his only protection now. He was hiding in the last room of the building and he knew they wouldn't leave until checking every last inch of this warehouse.

An odd sense of calm washed over him finally and he hovered trembling fingers of a scrap piece of metal, deciding whether to push it and make his location known or just let the seconds pass on until they found him naturally. Moments pass and with a deep breath, he flicked the scrap metal and it clanged on the floor beside him. Their hearts ticked in response and he knew they were signalling to each other where they had heard it. Their footsteps now silent and untraceable.

TIme seemed to slow as a large boot passed through the doorway almost immediately followed by a different one as they flowed into the room, their guns held at attention and flashlights on again as they swept the room. They passed his small pile of buckets that he hid behind, but Damien didn't make a run for it once they cleared his path. He watched the methodical sweep they conducted, the quick hand gestures they used to convey different meanings. Had he not been the one being hunted, he would admire their commitment to stealth.

Stories had always said Sam was taller, had a mop of hair that had only gotten longer and was broad in his shoulders. The lore of hunters not being wrong from Damien's viewpoint on the floor. Sam had done the research, had plotted points and connected the signs of anything they hunted and it was all paying off in front of Damien. Either one of them could be the one to administer the final blow, but Damien knew his death had been written in stone weeks ago by Sam.

Damien's eyes flicked to Dean, shorter than Sam, but not short in his own right. His focus unmatched, and what looked like because of his bowed legs gave way to his maneuverability. He knew Dean was even more dangerous than his brother, killing monsters was a sport for him. He had no qualms cutting heads off or pulling triggers on specially made bullets. The morbid wish to have Dean be the one to kill him took ahold of Damien and he choked out a gurgling laugh. Both Dean and Sam spun at the sound, their flashlights pinpoint focusing on Damien.

He had expected to hear gunfire when they found him, but they stood there, staring at him instead. He knew his eyes were glowing right back at them, and he couldn't see their faces, but he painfully smiled at them. Sam shuffled closer, the smell of his gun finally strong enough to Damien's subdued sense of smell. Dean kept back, keeping his distance, knowing what Sammy was doing and watching his six.

"Go on. Kill me. I'm what you want." Damien spat out.

"There aren't more of you are there?" Sam still fact checking to the end.

"Nope. Was just Ma and me, you got her weeks ago." Damien eyed them both.

"You don't have a pack?" genuine concern inched into Sam's voice.

"No. Ma escaped the den fire when I was still a pup in her belly. Couldn't fit us into any other pack since. Mise well kill me now, hell I know it's been a long night already for me." dawn was just starting to lighten the sky outside as he spoke.

"Don't have to tell me twice." Dean moved forward for the first time since Damien laughed, dropping his flashlight and raising his gun to aim better.

Damien faced Dean straight on, taking his own demise like a badge of honor. Dying by hunters was bad, but at least it was the best hunters he had strung along and Damien grasped at that tiny victory as his life faded into purgatory, to be united with his mother again.


End file.
